I Hate Myself (for Loving You)
by Cosima-wants-the-D-elphine
Summary: Carmilla is hellbent on killing in order to avenge the untimely death of her family and has been on a centuries-long spree ever since. But what happens when this vicious cycle is suddenly interrupted?
1. Chapter 1

Slitting Laura's throat never felt so good. Carmilla loved the way that her blood flowed out like a hot crimson stream trickling out of her veins, slowly at first, then growing thicker as her heart pumped in a vain attempt to keep her alive. The human body was truly a beautiful thing, always giving a hundred percent, even to the very end. Just like a selfish human to try to save itself by itself.

"Time's up, cupcake..." she airily declared. She couldn't tear her eyes away from that blood. It seemed so rich, so _inviting_...

She couldn't. She vowed to never drink a drop of Laura's blood. She wouldn't allow such poison into her body. To indulge herself in such sin would be blasphemous. Laura tried to say something, but all that came out was a sickly gurgling noise as more blood spurted out.

Needless to say, Carmilla did not care what this scum had to say. In fact, she laughed at the strange choking noise as Laura crawled toward her, clawing at the cement ground now slippery with her own red bodily fluid.

"This must be hell for you," Carmilla chuckled as she squatted down to Laura's level. Her victim's eyes darted wildly. She'd be gone soon. "I suppose I should put you out of your misery..."

Laura's brown eyes gazed up at her, pleading Carmilla to end her suffering.

"But sadly, it seems you're out of luck," Carmilla went on as she stood straight up again. "Because I don't happen to be the girl who does what she should."

Laura rolled over onto her back, losing the fight. Carmilla took a few steps over and peered down at her with a smirk on her face.

"Poor thing... You don't even _know_ what you did, do you?" she tsked. Laura stared emotionlessly up at her, never moving once. "Do you want to hear a bedtime story before you go to sleep?"

Two blinks.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," Carmilla mused as she began to walk a circle around Laura. "Once upon a time, there was a girl. She was only eighteen years young and she was out at a dance having the time of her _life_. And just as she approached the outside of her house after deciding to come home, she heard a noise in the kitchen of her home, the home she'd lived in for her entire life. Scared yet, creampuff?"

One blink.

"And when she got there, she saw her family sitting at the dinner table as if they were waiting for her before they could start eating. And as she got closer, she found that they were frozen in place. They didn't blink, they didn't even breathe. As I'm sure you've probably gathered... they were dead. Murdered in cold blood and set up like dolls at a tea party. What do you think of that?"

Laura's lips parted, but no sound came out.

"The girl _screamed_ for help, but no one ever came. She'd have killed herself right then and there, but... well you see, some creep at the dance she'd been to had bitten her. That's why she'd went home so early. So there she was, some sort of immortal demon, alone with her dead family. _Tragic_ isn't it?"

"Help..." Laura weakly reached up toward Carmilla, but she pulled away and stepped out of her reach.

"But then she saw a girl sprinting away into the nearby woods. A girl with a birthmark on the back of her neck. And since that night, she swore she'd kill that girl any and every time they ever crossed paths."

"I'm s... s..."

"Shhh... It won't be long now," Carmilla whispered to her. "And so whenever she ran into that girl reincarnate, she killed her."

Laura's eyes began closing and her breaths became shallow.

"And it just so happens that you were her this time around," Carmilla sneered as Laura's eyes closed. "Told ya you were out of luck."


	2. Chapter 2

Mircalla stumbled through the woods, grumbling under her breath about that boy, Nicolaus. She'd spent the night waltzing with him and he had seemed like a gentleman. He even offered to walk her home, which was more than she could say about her date from last week. But she had to decline his offer, as she'd snuck out of her house just to go to the dance and she'd lose all secrecy if she returned home with a boy on her arm. She wouldn't have had to sneak out if her parents had granted her the freedom everyone else's parents seemed to. But as a countess, she was expected to stay inside so she would be, as her parents put, "safe."

She didn't exactly know what they were trying to protect her from—perhaps the contagious lower-class grunge that seemed to be spreading amongst the townspeople like an epidemic. Or maybe it had something to do with her father and all their land. To be frank, she didn't really care. She tended to separate herself from the feudal system whenever she could as it seemed extremely oppressive from her experience as an involuntary countess.

Anyway, she'd declined Nicolaus' offer and he took it remarkably well for a boy. He'd simply vocalized his respect for her choice before politely asking for a mere parting kiss. And with him being relatively handsome, Mircalla had no qualms about giving him a quick peck on the cheek, or even the lips if he wanted. So she'd stepped back toward him and leaned in for a kiss. It was as simple as that. Or at least, it should have been.

His lips were soft and Mircalla was delighted, though she knew it wouldn't go anywhere as she had no intent of ever seeing him again. The kiss lasted longer than she'd expected—it shifted more into a passionate make out session, and Mircalla still had no problem with that. It was when, without warning, he'd moved from her lips to her jaw, and then straight to her neck where he began to bite her.

And he wasn't sensually nipping at her neck either. He was legitimately biting her, breaking her skin and drawing blood. This all happened within a few minutes and she immediately pushing him away, swore like a true townsperson, and fled from him down the street and into the safety of the woods.

So here she was, trudging through the woods on her way home. She rubbed at her neck where his sharp teeth had been only minutes ago. She felt ever so strange; fatigued, yet strong. And the color of the trees' leaves were more vibrant than she'd ever remembered seeing at that time of night. And she felt like she could hear everything—even something as minute as a chipmunk than ran along the path completely obscured from her view. And the scents—she could smell the pine trees off to the east and the moss to the north. Everything seemed to be magnified in the most beautiful way, despite the night she was having.

She took a deep breath and it seemed to calm her down as she approached the familiar path that ultimately led to her home.

Oh how comforting it would feel to get inside. She'd lived there for her entire life; it was with her every step of the way. Her first dog. Her first lost tooth. Her dog's death. Her menarche. Everything. She couldn't wait to get back inside that refuge and feel that sense of security...

She stopped dead in her tracks as she noticed a light in the kitchen on. She cursed under her breath, knowing she'd been caught. Her parents were probably waiting to scold her the moment she walked through that door. It was fine, though, she'd learned her lesson. Townspeople, despite saying they _won't_ bite upon a first encounter, will indeed bite. And she planned on notifying them of her new discovery just to prove that she _had_ really learned and was truly sorry for her deception. Mircalla took a deep breath as she walked up to the door and opened it.

"I know what you're going to say," she informed her parents, who sat at the table silently watching her. She cast her eyes to the floor and continued, "I know I shouldn't have snuck out. It was the first time I did it. Honest. And I can promise you that I've learned my lesson. I met some boy name Nicolaus and he ended up being some kind of pervert. I am sorry for making you both worry and for disobeying your orders. I am willing to accept any form of punishment either of you deem necessary."

She looked up to see both of her parents' eyes staring back at her, their expressions unreadable. Their silence hurt her like a knife and she hung her head.

"Please say something," she softly begged as she shifted her gaze upon her mother. Her mother's usually lively eyes now seemed dead as they continued their strange stare. It felt as if it'd become a competition and after about a minute more of wordless eye contact, Mircalla noticed that her mother hadn't taken a breath since she'd walked in. "Mother?"

Her eyes darted over to her father, who seemed to match her mother's stiffness upon closer inspection. She felt a sharp pain in her chest as she took a cautious step closer to them.

"Father?"

She went behind him and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. Upon contact, his body slumped over and fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Mircalla suddenly couldn't breathe as she rushed over to her mother's side.

"Mother—please..." she hoarsely begged as she took her mother's hand. Her fingers were cold and they caught Mircalla off-guard as she dropped them immediately and screamed in horror. She collapsed to her knees, sobbing by her mother's corpse.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it couldn't have been too long as her wailing was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. She quieted herself and slipped into a trance of some sort, too numb to even think about what she was doing.

The footsteps were strange; they sounded soft as if they were walking on something squishy like grass. Mircalla walked over to the open door and peered outside, drying her tears to get a clearer view. She didn't see anything, so she turned to go back inside.

Then suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement and turned sharply to witness a girl about her height sprinting into the woods, her long hair streaming behind her with every stride. As her hair moved from side to side, Mircalla noticed a strange birthmark on the back of her neck that seemed to resemble a crescent moon. Mircalla even thought about running after her, but decided against it as she was clearly the culprit and could then be considered dangerous.

She closed the door behind herself and collapsed again onto the floor and stared at the opposite wall, wondering what to do. She supposed she could try to get help, but she'd be the first under investigation for the murder of her parents and without there proof of someone else being there—and she could see there really was none—she'd surely be hanged.

She decided that she would have to run away. That way, her parents' bodies would surely be found and she would not be under mass scrutiny and soil the Karnstein family name. Another benefit would be that she would not inherit her father's responsibilities as he held the noble title of Count. She would no longer have the identity as Countess Mircalla Karnstein, daughter of the Count Karnstein of Styria. She would be free to come and go as she pleased, never having to live up to such high expectations. She grew fond of the idea of this new freedom and the more she thought about it, the more running away seemed to be the logical thing to do. Hell, without a name, she could even try to track down her family's murderer and avenge their deaths. She _really_ liked that idea.

Mircalla rose to her feet and picked her father's limp body up and it proved to be a much easier feat than she'd expected it to be. Her newfound strength completely astounded her, but she dragged him up the stairs to his bed nevertheless. She covered him and propped him up against his pillow before grabbing a book off his nightstand and flipping to a random page. She set it between his limp hands and glanced down at the page:

 _No cord or cable can draw so forcibly, or bind so fast, as love can do with a single thread._

Tears pickled behind her eyes, but she blinked them away and took a deep breath as she turned away to go back for her mother. She trudged back downstairs and lifted her mother ever so gently from her chair at the table and carried her upstairs. She placed the woman in bed beside her father and covered her as well. They both looked remarkably peaceful for a dead couple.

She sighed and closed her mother's eyes before tilting her mother's head so it looked as if she'd been sleep when she died. Mircalla then went over to her father's side and studied his emotionless face before slipping his pair of glasses on his face and adjusting his head so it was angled downward as if he'd fallen asleep reading (and then died, of course). They looked like they had any other _normal_ night of Mircalla's life.

"I love you..." she whispered to them as she blew them a kiss.

Silence.

"I know I wasn't the best daughter... and an even _worse_ Countess," she sniffled. "But I _will_ make this right. For _both_ of you. I promise."

She took a few steps toward the bedroom door and cast one more longing glance over her shoulder.

"Goodbye," she whispered before disappearing down the stairs and out of her now haunted home.


	3. Chapter 3

The sights and sounds of the town square completely captivated Mircalla. She heard music playing from somewhere, a delightful tune probably from the corner to her left, and the fresh fruits and vegetables' colors were unmatched natural beauties.

She hadn't been into town for many years—it had to be a good twelve years or so since she'd last been there—her parents preferred to keep her away from the townsfolk so as not to risk a friendship or whatever it was they didn't want for her.

But she wasn't there to socialize. She was there to listen for any conversations pertaining to the Karnsteins and to see if she could possibly find that girl with the birthmark.

"Did you hear of Count Karnstein's passing?"

"I heard it was murder."

"Where did you hear that?"

"He wasn't sick. And he was with his wife who just _happened_ to die at the same time?"

"What of his daughter?"

"Nowhere to be found."

"Perhaps she was taken as a token for a ransom?"

"The person wouldn't have killed the both of them."

"Do you think _she_ did this?"

"Hard to say. She's a recluse. Hasn't been out in over a decade. You know how they are... Maybe she lost her mind and killed her parents in blind rage."

Mircalla chuckled and continued on her way, making sure to keep her head low and most of her face concealed from sight. In doing so, she nearly bumped into a fair-skinned girl with light brown hair and a friendly smile who stood near an apple stand.

"Pardon me," Mircalla politely apologized as she watched a few apples tumble to the ground. "It appears I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Neither was I," the girl excused her. They both bent down to pick the apples up and put them back. "My name is Laura."

"Mirc—um..." Mircalla wracked her brain for another name. Any name that wasn't her own. She got so desperate she even took to mixing the letters around before she sputtered, "Carmilla."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Carmilla," Laura smiled at her.

"And you," Mircalla, now deemed Carmilla, replied.

"Unfortunately, I must be going," Laura apologized. "My family and I are moving and I came out here to buy food for the trip."

"Moving?" Carmilla inquired.

"The district lines have shifted once again," Laura explained as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "One of the king's counts has died and we are relocating to the late nobleman's property."

"Is that so?" Carmilla studied her with interest and Laura nodded.

"It is," she affirmed. "Though, it's more of a return than a relocation. You see, we used to live there before the district lines were adjusted. When they changed, we were forced out. We have a beautiful place now, but I must admit that it will be wonderful to return home."

"I'm sure it will," Carmilla nodded pleasantly. "I wish you all the best of luck."

"Thank you. I wish I could have stayed to get to know you better," Laura remarked with slight disappointment. "You seem to be a kind soul."

And with that, Laura turned and began walking away. Carmilla watched her leave and just happened to catch a glimpse of a familiar crescent-shaped birthmark on the back of Laura's neck. She felt something inside her click and she bolted after her, only to be stopped by some man blocking her path.

"Move, dammit!" she shouted at him and when he turned around, she saw that the man turned out to be Nicolaus from the other night. "Oh. It's you."

She shook her head.

"The other night was fun, aside from your biting, but I really must be going—"

"What are you doing out here?" he asked her sternly. "Everyone is looking for you. You're wanted for the murder of your parents."

"They don't know exactly what I look like," Carmilla replied.

"You're confident," he commented.

"And you're in my way," she retorted. "I really must be going."

"And I really insist you stay here," he told her. "There is so much you need to know."

"I agree," Carmilla hissed. "And all the information is going that way."

"I bit you for a reason," he explained. "And now, that means you're like me."

"I don't plan on going around _biting_ people, so no. I'm not," Carmilla shook her head and tried to get around him. He stepped to the side and blocked her.

"You're not human anymore. You're a vampire. Have you ever heard of those?"

"Get out of my way," she growled.

"That means you _will_ be biting people and you _will_ like it. But you need to know how to control yourself, lest you go on a killing spree. And you'd eventually be so drunk on blood, you'd be caught," he informed her. "And I don't know if you've found this, but humans don't do well with things that are different from them. And even if they did accept you as the monster you now are, you'd still be wanted for murder. Both your parents and the hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people you killed during your spree."

"You're a mad man!" she forced a laugh. "You truly are. Now move."

"You can see better than you could before," he tried. "And hear every little thing. That's not weird to you? That your senses seemed to magically improve?"

Carmilla went silent as she looked him in the eyes.

"You're stronger too. You could probably lift a horse and its buggy. You have believe me."

"Fine. I believe you. _Now_ will you move?"

"You can catch her later," he promised. "I didn't make you miss a thing. I can teach you everything."

Carmilla clenched and unclenched her jaw as she went over her options. Did she really believe him? What he was saying did kind of make sense... Perhaps he was telling the truth.

"Fine. Teach me. Starting with how the hell I might find that girl after only learning her first name."

"You can find her the same way I found you," he grinned and picked an apple up from the nearby stand, tossing it to her and saying, "Scent."


	4. Chapter 4

"So what's your history? You and her," Nicolaus inquired as he pulled at the damp grass underneath him. "Why are you set on killing her? She seems like a decent person..."

"So did you," Carmilla muttered.

"I've already apologized for that. How long are you going to hold it over my head?"

"Until you understand what you've done," Carmilla hissed. "You took my only escape route. I could've been dead by now. I could've killed myself and reunited with my parents on the other side if it weren't for you forcing my transformation into a monster. But no, I'm stuck here, an orphan, alone, with you, and no way out because I don't know how to kill... whatever we are."

"And that's why you want to kill this... Laura?"

"No. I want to kill her because _she_ killed _me,"_ Carmilla explained. "She's the one who took my parents."

"Mircalla—"

"Don't call me that," she miserably grumbled. "That's not who I am anymore."

"Carmilla," he tried again. "There's one last thing I must tell you."

Carmilla stared at him impatiently.

"Humans have souls. Souls that, when they pass, get reincarnated into another being."

"And?"

"Well... We don't."

"So what're you saying?"

"You can die, but if you die now, there won't _be_ another side for you—because you have no soul and therefore no potential for reincarnation. And as a vampire, a soulless creature, you have the ability to recognize the souls with which you've previously come into contact—when you were a vampire. And as for your parents... they're somewhere on this earth with completely new identities. They won't even remember you," he informed her. "But my point is... You can kill Laura, but she'll just come back."

"So what you're telling me is that my parents' souls are somewhere out there and I'd never be able to find them because I didn't encounter them during my time as a vampire and even if I did happen to find them, they wouldn't remember me."

"Yes."

"And that my only outlet for all of this, killing Laura, isn't even permanent. She'll just keep reappearing no matter what I do."

"Correct."

"Wow... I didn't think this was possible, but... I hate you even _more_ now," Carmilla grouched.


	5. Chapter 5

Carmilla took in a deep breath as she prepared herself to put on the very best performance she'd ever done in her life. Upon exhaling, she knocked on the door and waited for it to open.

"Hello? Oh—it's you!" Laura exclaimed as she recognized Carmilla's face from the market the other day.

"And you!" Carmilla gasped theatrically. "What are the odds that fate brought us together again! Oh—I'm terribly sorry, I know I met you just the other day—by the apple stand—but it seems I've forgotten your name."

"It's Laura," she reminded her.

"Yes, yes that's it. Laura," Carmilla nodded. "Laura, I hate to bother you at such a late hour, but it seems my carriage has wrecked and my horse has fled. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me look for him? He went somewhere down this way and my night vision is absolutely dreadful."

"I would be happy to help," Laura promised her.

"Excellent. There is a patch of thistles on the other side of the river nearby—"

"I know the one," Laura nodded.

"I was thinking he might be there looking for a snack."

"Probably," Laura agreed as she grabbed her coat off a hook. "My horses love that thistle patch too."

"Such gluttons they are," Carmilla remarked as Laura closed the door behind herself. "I often have to muzzle mine. But I imagine it's terribly uncomfortable and so I give mine a break. It just so happens today was his day off from the muzzle and now from his reins too."

"We'll get him back," Laura promised her.

"So this is your new house, huh?" Carmilla inquired innocently. Laura looked at her questioningly. "You had mentioned the other day you were moving because of boundary lines being shifted or something..."

"Oh yeah," Laura sprung back to life. "Yeah, this is it."

"I take it you're happy to be back."

"I am. My parents and I were living in a shack after Count Karnstein and his family moved in. He took our land and gave us nothing to fall back on—and what is worse is that he did so without warning or a care."

"That sounds... terrible," Carmilla admitted sincerely.

"It was. We're lucky we found the place we did."

"If I were in that position, I'd have done _anything_ to get that house back," Carmilla told her neutrally.

"Oh, I did—I tried to protest and was shooed away. So I did what I thought would help. I got down on my knees and prayed."

"You're religious," Carmilla commented with a smile and a nod.

"And you're not?" Laura responded.

"I was, once."

"Are you okay?" Laura asked quietly.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you're talking more than you're looking around and you don't seem frantic—in fact, you haven't since we left the house."

"What're you saying?"

"I'm saying... We're not really looking for a horse, are we?"

Carmilla stopped and looked her in the eyes.

"You looked so distraught... I came because I thought that maybe you needed someone to talk to," Laura admitted. Carmilla felt herself soften toward the girl and she suppressed it nonetheless. "Everybody needs somebody, you know?"

"You are correct in that we are indeed _not_ looking for a horse," Carmilla confessed.

"So what _are_ we doing out here?" Laura asked as she stepped closer to Carmilla.

"I know you killed my father," Carmilla told her point-blank. "And I know you killed my mother. I was there that night. I saw you flee into the woods."

"What?"

"Did you not know that Count Karnstein had a daughter?" Carmilla paused and allowed the information to seep in before saying, "I am she. I _am_ the Countess Mircalla Karnstein. 'Carmilla' is simply an anagrammatic alias."

"Carmil—Mirc— _Countess_ ," Laura sputtered. "I am... so terribly _sorry_."

"You're _sorry_?" Carmilla repeated. "You killed _both_ of my parents, the only people that've been in my life for a _stable_ amount of time, the only people I ever really _knew_ and all you can say is that you're _sorry?_ "

"Countess, please let me explain—"

"There is nothing to explain," Carmilla snapped. "You wanted your land back. You murdered nobility for a strip of _earth_ , Laura. Do you know what that tells me? You esteemed a piece of _land_ as more valuable than human _life_."

"I was _saving_ human lives!" Laura cried. "My own family's! Without land, we had _nothing_. Nothing to survive on, nowhere to _go!_ I don't expect _you_ to understand because you were _born_ with a silver spoon in _your_ mouth! Life's always been easy for you!"

"I've been held prisoner for eighteen years of my miserable life!" Carmilla spat. "They didn't let me go anywhere. They were all I had and you selfishly took them from me! For a plot of _land!_ "

"I didn't _want_ to kill them. But I saw no other way," Laura sobbed. "I've been unable to sleep at night since then. I feel _sick_. Every time I close my eyes, I see their expressionless faces and their dead eyes peering into my soul, boring bottomless holes into it until I can no longer breathe. I can barely even look at myself in the mirror—if you're here to turn me in, then so be it. I deserve whatever punishment that may come my way."

" _Hardly_ ," Carmilla scoffed. "If I turned you in, they would set an execution date and you would be hanged on that day, end of story. I do not want that for you. I want you to suffer _more_ than what a simple hanging will deal to you so that you may finally know true pain."

"So be it," Laura whispered. "The guilt is too much for me to protest."

"I hate you," Carmilla hissed as she grabbed Laura and flung her against a nearby boulder that lay only a few yards away. Laura's body slapped against the boulder and fell to the ground like a dead fly. "I _hate_ you!"

Carmilla went over to her and kicked her, causing Laura's body to roll over. Laura was struggling to breathe and her eyes appeared to be unfocused.

"Is this making you feel any better?" she asked breathlessly. "Because it's making me feel a whole lot better."

"Shut up," Carmilla muttered, kicking her into the rock once more. Laura cried out in pain and Carmilla relished the moment as she stooped down and grabbed Laura by the throat.

"I know I deserve this," Laura rasped. "But may I be permitted to utter my last words?"

"No one's around to hear you," Carmilla growled and brought Laura's face closer to hers.

"It'll be quick," Laura promised softly. Carmilla waited. "I truly am sorry—"

Carmilla's grip tightened and Laura coughed and wheezed, trying to draw in the air she so desperately needed.

"—for what I've done. And I realize now that... I made a huge mistake. A mistake... I will not... _ever..._ be able... to fix," Laura went on. "But my one wish... is that I... may have the opportunity to... make it up to you... in another life..."

Carmilla roared out of frustration and gripped Laura even tighter.

"...Mircalla."

Laura's eyes closed on her last word and Carmilla let her drop to the ground limp before scooping her up and carrying her back from where they came.

Laura was remarkably light—even despite Carmilla's supernatural strength.

They eventually made it back to where Carmilla had spoken to her from the porch and she had easy access as Laura had left the door unlocked. She fumbled with the doorknob and pushed her way in before setting Laura at the table in the kitchen.

It was a quaint little house; modest, but comfortable. There were varying shades of wood and she smelled a faint ghost of whatever it was they'd eaten for supper. And even though it belonged to a murderer's family, it felt cozy.

She straightened Laura's posture and pushed the chair in so that it held her in place. She then folded the body's hands and closed her eyes—it looked as if she were simply praying.

Carmilla stood still, listening for any sounds from the other family members and when she heard three separate respiration patterns, all slow with slumber, she relaxed and even looked around for something to eat.

She found fresh bread and deemed it worthy of eating so she sat down next to the corpse and ate her slice silently.

Between her chews, she heard something rustle outside. Her jaws froze and she spun around to look out the window, but saw nothing. Just as she turned back around, there was a soft tapping on the glass. She glanced over her shoulder and upon seeing that it was Nicolaus, she rolled her eyes and got up to open the door.

"What do you want?" she turned away and went back to her seat at the table.

"Killing's going to get old, kitty."

"I'm an all-powerful immortal being with nothing to lose," Carmilla answered with a full mouth. "I do what I want."

"You're going to lose that attitude as the years go by," he warned her. "There is no joy that comes from it. Face it. We all get soft."

"Don't plan on it," Carmilla retorted. "This bitch will not go a single lifetime that I see her without dying by my hand."

"If you say so," Nicolaus shrugged. "But how about the rest of her family? Are you going to track them too?"

"Why would I?"

"They brought her into this world. Part of your father's demise is their fault,"

Nicolaus reasoned.

"Not really."

"So it's okay that I woke them up two minutes ago, giving you about thirty seconds to get out before they realize there is indeed someone in their house that doesn't belong here."

"You did _what?_ " Carmilla shrilly barked, jumping out of the chair and crashing through the door.

"C'mon, I didn't really. I just had to get you out of there. Why were you sitting with it?"

"I..."

... _wanted to make sure she was found_ , her brain finished for her.

"Was savoring the moment," Carmilla told him.

"Well, off you go."

"What?"

"Now that she's dead, the soul has moved on... To another body. You should be off looking for it, no?" Nicolaus shrugged. "You didn't think you got a break in between, did you?"

"No..."

"Well, then... Chop-chop! Stalking and killing takes time."


End file.
